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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

they

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

become

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

indented

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:24pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

all

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:24pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

the

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:24pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

way

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:24pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

over

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

to

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

the

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

right

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

margin.

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

Sorry

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

to

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

waste

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

your

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

time

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:26pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

with

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:27pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

such

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:27pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

nonsense.

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:27pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

BTW,

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

Tell's

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

right

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

about

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

TDIH

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:28pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

(and

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

the

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

same

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

could

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

be

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

said

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:29pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

about

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:30pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

tomorrow,

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Poster: Lou Davenport Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:30pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nesting

too).

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:37pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

Is that the purported stairway to heaven?

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Poster: hseamons Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:58pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

Staircase

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Poster: rdenirojb87 Date: Oct 12, 2011 6:58pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost batallion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of the Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisable suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland

where you're madder than I am

I'm with you in Rockland

where you must feel strange

I'm with you in Rockland

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I'm with you in Rockland

where you've murdered your twelve secretaries

I'm with you in Rockland

where you laugh at this invisible humour

I'm with you in Rockland

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I'm with you in Rockland

where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I'm with you in Rockland

where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I'm with you in Rockland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I'm with you in Rockland

where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I'm with you in Rockland

where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss

I'm with you in Rockland

where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I'm with you in Rockland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I'm with you in Rockland

where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I'm with you in Rockland

where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I'm with you in Rockland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I'm with you in Rockland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep

I'm with you in Rockland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free

I'm with you in Rockland

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 12, 2011 7:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

hey, I'll smoke some of that!

O
h

y
e
a
h!

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:03pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

http://tinyurl.com/68ynboe

to be fair

http://tinyurl.com/6el25lz

This post was modified by micah6vs8 on 2011-10-13 03:03:30

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Poster: rdenirojb87 Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:08pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

mmmmm, i love joseph hill's voice. especially with my friend mr. kush :-)

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:17pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: nestinghouse

mmmmmmmm

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:18pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

You Americans need to wake up, put the bongs down and elect a
real president. Europe's future may depend on it. I don't know about your future. I hope it sorts out all right.
You could resurrect Teddy Roosevelt.

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Poster: RBNW....new and improved! Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:50am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

you need to go fuck yourself. twice.

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Poster: rdenirojb87 Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:39pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

you need to wake up actually. the people i've met that use cannabis tend to be smarter than those that have never tried it. what does the ganj have to do with our presidential situation?

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 12, 2011 9:08pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Max Cady, it's a clone.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 12, 2011 9:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

I'm more real than you, sir. You won't find me scurrying around courting favor with illusory has-beens like yourself.
Jerry wept.

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:34am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Did you break all the mirrors in the house?

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 7:56am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Yes I did, but not in the manner or for the reason you quip. See, I'd heard you attempt to stalk forum participants, so in order to prepare for your imminent break-in, I disposed of the mirrors. I feared you'd become hypnotized with ewok love by your own visage and leave an immense puddle of drool on the official Daffy Duck doilies you've been posting to me.
(That's the actual Poste, O Lugubrious One.)


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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:07am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

I do admire your service to our country.
Something must have happened. Honesty, integrity, standing for principles, and willing to admit a mistake or apologize, seem to have been left behind. Why don't you start a new forum? I'm sure you will get someone in your domain. Ah, control. It's like napalm in the morning, huh? Fetishes.
I do have to laugh though at one or two of your tiny attempts to cut me. You ought to have learned a few lessons from a master like the 'smith. But then, he has things like honesty, integrity, and a clear mind, so it wouldn't be a good example anyways.
Your whole schtick here is the diminutive man of diminishing returns. And that was begun with the bar set as low as it will go.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:34am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

O Thin-Skinned One, respectfully, why don't you start a new forum?
As far back as I read, you're a bit of a bully, eh?
I'm here to read about the Grateful Dead in a forum of international ideas. Why are you here?
Oh yes, to promote Jesus. I forgot. Or is it yourself--you seem to get the two confused. You're not more than a stone's throw from the Muslims you castigate. Please buzz off, micahfly. The music sounds better without your self-congratulatory prattling.

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 13, 2011 11:38am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

You have overcooked the linguini again. None of that snap you like to hear in a good whip. But, now I'm repeating myself, so I know I'm bored.

Finally, courage would look something like a consistent handle dark.starz. Oh, sorry. Wrong alias. Nothing says courage like having four or ten. Imagine if you posted under Kochman and faced the music. That would be the beginning of a possible game change.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 12:03pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitewash good ol' boys syndrome

Micahfly, you are the most exceedingly boring and redundant poster in the history of all internet forums. But don't listen to what everyone has said in the past---you're doing a bang-up job. Just keep being you. The only koch is slapped across your mug. You just can't help yourself! You have a big Koch addiction problem.

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Poster: rdenirojb87 Date: Oct 13, 2011 12:12pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitewash good ol' boys syndrome

we appreciate micah for what he's contributed here. if you don't, then take a fuckin' walk you cynical old bastard.

your in no position to be criticizing others. seriously why did you join these forums? if you can't contribute anything of substance, then piss off. we're only gonna put up with your shit for so long.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 12:16pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitewash good ol' boys syndrome

You f--- off. I've responded in kind, and done nothing to violate standards, Micah.

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:45am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

nope, i simply looked in the mirror. Unbelievable, but I enjoy sobriety at times I need to be on top of my game - lol. There IS a time and place to have highfun, but not all the time like oncerts, b4 long runs, the times i don't need @20% more IQ. Besides, smoking anything is sooo..cough!! (vapor is best) Moderation is a good thing

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:19am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

UngowaUngowa, you make a lot of valid points, bong heads can be easily led while they're getting into their own head

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 1:11pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

And I wasn't asserting that they're bad sorts at all, just easily conditioned to accept the engineered downslide.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 12, 2011 8:58pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Everything, actually...you've become mentally soft in pursuit of childish pleasures. Snap out of it, mate.
A fuzzy mind is easily led. Your leaders love this fact.

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Poster: rdenirojb87 Date: Oct 12, 2011 9:18pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

hahaha, you are very mislead sir. excuse me while i light my spliff :-)

what part of europe do you hail from by the way

This post was modified by rdenirojb87 on 2011-10-13 04:18:54

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 12, 2011 9:25pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Yes, of course I'm prone to give my stats to upstarts who fancy themselves to be famous American thespians. I'll tender further communication with people who've actually graduated with a degree of some sort.

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Poster: bluedevil Date: Oct 12, 2011 11:06pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

I've got a whole bunch of degrees - shall we converse?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aZ2H1NrCas

Put that in your chuck taylors and smoke it!

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Poster: micah6vs8 Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:42am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

All I really know is dental floss, yellow snow and scrutinizing. I always said some day I'll plunge in deep. That was good BD.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 11:39am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Mr. Attaboy himself, hiding behind skirts again.
And yet a forum gang-rapist nonetheless if one reads the record. And I've read it.

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 13, 2011 5:23am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

"Everything, actually...you've become mentally soft in pursuit of childish pleasures. Snap out of it, mate.
A fuzzy mind is easily led. Your leaders love this fact".

indeed! what's your take on alcohol and the ton of mood altering prescription drugs touted on the boobtube?

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 1:09pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Since you asked, I think they're rubbish substances, also.

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Poster: snori Date: Oct 13, 2011 7:20am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Ungowa :-

To command someone to cease verbal action, or quit speaking.

Silencio. The white man is speaking. Excuse me, theres a white man up here. UNGOWA!!

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:12am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Very good snori! Seems to be the theme of this forum at times, eh? Somewhat like club of vicious hyenas who exist
to attack any newcomer with an opinion, as the pack extolls theirs/its with impunity.

No wonder your country is on its back.

How does anyone balance the G D music with such slavery?

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Poster: Skobud Date: Oct 13, 2011 7:55am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Koch alert.

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:09am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Smoke koch if you like. All persuasions are encouraged.
Obviously another sit-down guy for the ruling class.

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:19am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

hmmm...have u checked your FB Friend Requests?

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 12:23pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

You Face-frocked Americans are so droll.

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Poster: rastamon Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:05am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

ehhhh...not every new poster is Koch, but we shall see. The mod's here have access to our IP addy's, right?

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Poster: UngowaUngowa Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:17am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Of course they do. They make edible knickers from them.
Yours come in raspberry.

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Poster: Skobud Date: Oct 13, 2011 8:20am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Chronic whitehouse kush syndrome

Give it time rasta...He cant help himself.

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